Short and sour with no chorus.

A simple set of lyrics about an ex-lover getting their revenge on a particularly unpleasant ex.

Verse 1

I see you up there in your penthouse,

Livin’ in the lap of luxury.

I hear you feel safe in your penthouse,

Well, I think maybe you’ve forgotten me.

‘Cause I know secrets about you,

And they’re secrets I’m willing to sell.

You used me to gain your fortune and fame,

So now I’m gonna’ make some money as well.

Verse 2

I met you at a disco,

You were sixteen and you were naive.

Exactly seven years later,

Now you’re telling me that you’re gonna’ leave.

I see your face in the papers,

You even made it on Marie Claire.

But what they didn’t know, the cracks are starting to show,

‘Cause your face is made of cheap Tupperware.

Verse 3

You sold your wedding to Okay,

Hello was there to photo-story the birth.

Gucci gave you a handbag,

Valued at twice the price your signatures worth.

But I’ve got some pictures of you dear,

That show of your natural flair.

They were easy to sell, some people paid very well,

And you got a centre spread in Mayfair.

November 1991